Pirate's Princess
by silveris
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Sounds cliche, but that's how Hermione sees it as she wanders the night as Jane, Draco Malfoy's woman. [DMHG Ficexchange Hot Summer Nights entry, NC17, DHr]


Pirate's Princess

Draco took one last long draft from his dying cigarette before crushing it out, his eyes fixed on a crack on the wall across the bed. The smoke blurred his vision and stung his eyes but he made no attempt to close them.

"I should get going now."

He tore his eyes from the wall and focused on the woman who spoke. She was standing beside the bed, her hair seemingly windswept, her lips still swollen from his kisses, her skimpy red dress crumpled. She looked unfazed but weary.

He merely nodded and vaguely waved a hand as if to shoo her away. She bowed a bit, yet kept her eyes on his. The smile she gave him before she turned to leave, though, took him by surprise.

But no sooner had she reached the doorknob than he had leapt out of bed, crossing the room in three strides. His arm snaked around her waist and she felt him breathe in her scent as the back of his other hand drew a line along the contour of her jaw.

"Damn it, Jane. You know that smile makes me hard," he whispered huskily. Platinum hair brushed softly against her shoulder as he bent his head and placed moth kisses on the side of her neck. His hand slowly roamed southward to gently squeeze one luscious breast. The other hand made its way along the front of her thigh and up under her skirt, where he discovered to his private pleasure that she was wet again.

"How much for round two?" he murmured.

Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place just as Big Ben tolled midnight. It was quite odd to find the manor completely buttoned up; the normally bustling kitchen was dark and deserted as she stole past. Careful not to wake Mrs. Black, she tiptoed up to the room she shared with Ginny; thankfully the flame-haired woman was still up in Scotland with Bill and Charlie. This was not the time for curious inquiries.

Collapsing in the chair before the vanity, she began to sob, recalling the sordid details of tonight's tryst with Draco. How she ever let herself get talked into this debauchery…

But if she were honest with herself, she'd admit that it was her idea from the beginning. The Order had desperately needed inside information concerning the Death Eaters' operations, and since Snape had been exposed as a spy, that intelligence was hard to come by. In a rash moment, Hermione had suggested an undercover assignment; she would pose as a Knockturn Alley whore to gain the confidence of the rising star in Voldemort's ranks. Draco Malfoy had gone from being Head Boy at Hogwarts to rubbing shoulders with the Inner Circle of the Death Eaters. Even though Lucius languished miserably in Azkaban, the Malfoy influence still ran strong, and Hermione intended to make the most of it.

Discovering Draco's patterns fell to Mundungus Fletcher. The bandy-legged kleptomaniac fit right in with the dank, seedy surroundings even without a disguise, but for extra precaution, he donned black witch's robes and a thick, black veil. It didn't hurt to take a leaf from Moody's book once in a while.

After skulking along the darkened street night after night for three weeks, observing the comings and goings of the new generation of Death Eaters, Mundungus took up position outside the Crusty Skull for one last evening of reconnaissance. Before long, he heard Vincent Crabbe's sycophantic guffaws and shifted around, the better to see the entourage ambling toward him. Ferret's in for a ride tonight, he chuckled inwardly. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a gold coin and tapped it surreptitiously as he retreated into the misty darkness.

Hermione checked her reflection in the grimy mirror. Upon receiving the signal from Mundungus, she had Apparated into the lavatory of the Crusty Skull to begin her distasteful mission. Satisfied that the glamour she had cast would fool her own mother, she pulled out a tube of Cherry Glow to touch up the color on her pouty lips before sauntering out into the pub.

Chair legs scraped the wooden floor as Draco and his cronies seated themselves at a table near the center of the pub. Marcus Flint leered up at the barmaid as she passed to deliver drinks to a trio of goblins, signaling her to attend them immediately, if not sooner. She merely rolled her eyes and continued on her way, but returned momentarily; she wasn't so daft that she didn't recognise the status of the young wizards and what would happen to her if she ignored them too long.

"Round of Old Ogden's, pet." Marcus ran one burly finger along her forearm. As he watched her hurry away to the bar, a tasty sight caught his lecherous eye. Thick as he was, though, it didn't escape him that the young woman lounging on the barstool was fixated not on him, but his more distinguished leader. "Oi, Malfoy," he slyly nudged the blonde man. "Look over there, mate."

Draco followed Flint's stare and felt his breath catch in his throat. The extremely low neckline of a ruby red cocktail dress displayed impressive cleavage that hypnotized him as it softly rose and fell. His gaze trailed upward to a captivating face framed in glossy raven-black waves, stopping at heavily-lashed sorrel eyes. The corners of her mouth turned up in a knowing smile, and he savored the sudden twitch in his groin. In the foggy distance he felt an encouraging punch to his arm as he stood to approach this vision of loveliness.

Somewhere between the table and the bar, he managed to recover his composure, resuming his usual haughty stance before reaching her. Leaning casually on the polished oak, his eyes once more grazed appraisingly over her. "Well, you're quite the morsel," he drawled.

"As are you," she quipped, but he sensed that she wasn't quite as confident as she tried to appear. He leaned in toward her, and sure enough, she backed away, if only slightly. The witch's eyes darted to the side, and she shifted a bit on the stool. This only served to arouse him more, however. Yes, this will be most rewarding.

"Tell me your name, love." His voice was a mere whisper in her ear. Much to Hermione's surprise, she was not unaffected by it. But she dismissed the shivers she felt as revulsion and pasted on a sugary smile. "I'm whoever you want me to be tonight."

One eyebrow slowly rose as Draco contemplated her remark. So she wishes anonymity, does she? Cocking his head to the side, he pretended to regard her quizzically for a moment, and then announced, "You shall be Jane." He seated himself on the stool next to her and began to trace circles over the back of her hand. "I've not seen you here before, Jane, and I am forced to wonder what would bring you to this…" he indicated their surroundings with a flourish, "…fine establishment."

Hermione chuckled at his sarcasm, peering up at him through lowered lashes. "I agree that this might not be the best location for business, but a living must be made somewhere. Only it seems I've inadvertently found royalty amidst the rabble." She blushed furiously, despite herself.

The implications stunned him. Whores were plentiful in Knockturn, but all of them were quite crass; they hardly displayed the refinement of the young woman in his company. He imagined they hadn't always been that way; they probably began their degrading careers as attractive witches, before time and abuse robbed them of beauty as well as dignity. But instinct told him he was her first proposition, and he'd be a fool to pass up the opportunity that had so seductively dropped in his lap.

"And what compensation do you require for the pleasure of your company?" Draco wrapped his well-manicured fingers around hers, bringing them up to his lips.

"Erm…" This is it, 'Jane'. Do or die… "Forty Galleons." She lifted her chin determinedly, forcing herself to look into his glacier-blue eyes.

Draco's response was to pull her off her stool and in tightly to his chest as he stood. "And I'll wager you're worth every knut." Steering her toward the door, he reached down and grabbed his cloak as they passed the smirking henchmen. "Don't wait up," he growled. Wolf whistles followed the couple as they stepped out into the night.

Three weeks later, she again sat on the fountain's edge in Hyde Park. After their first night, Draco had insisted she meet him here, instead of the pub. This was odd, but not as much as where he took her. The room had been rather small, dominated almost completely by a queen-sized bed covered in an emerald green quilt and several fluffy pillows. Two doors stood closed on opposite walls. The larger, she presumed, was the exit, so the smaller probably led to the loo. But what caused her eyes to widen in shock was an object that sat on the bedside stand. "Bloody Hell!" she exclaimed. "Is that…is that a telephone?"

Instantly she had regretted her outburst, but Draco seemed unconcerned about her knowledge of Muggle artifacts. He simply laughed sardonically. "Yes, Jane. And I'm quite sure that my father would sooner make rude hand gestures at the Dark Lord than know that his only son prefers the atmosphere of Muggle London."

This was all too surreal. Draco had been a Muggle-persecuting bastard for longer than she had known him. He was a carbon copy of the sadistic Lucius Malfoy, and had never missed an opportunity to call her a filthy Mudblood. So what dimension had she crossed into that the Death Eater currently latched on her neck would want to be around Muggles? Mad-Eye's gravelly voice penetrated her consciousness; she could see his magical eye rolling in all directions as he grated, "Constant Vigilance!" Yes. It has to be a trick. Perhaps they're preparing for another Muggle attack….

A distant rustling drew her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see him prowling along the path. A voluminous black hooded cloak hid his identity from prying eyes, but she instantly recognized him. She always did. She had memorized his gait, his posture, the shape of his body. An amused smile played across her lips when he cocked his head as if to tell her 'Come with me.'

She arose and smoothed her skirt and hair. Draping her wrap around her shoulders, she picked her way across the damp lawn to where he stood waiting under the lamppost. Her pace was much too leisurely for his liking; she could almost feel the stab of irritation he exuded. Once within arm's reach, he seized her and unceremoniously yanked her in for a rough kiss before they Disapparated.

When she opened her eyes, they were back in that same room.

He was still latched on to her lips.

This time though, he was different. He was not using his tongue. His hands were at bay by her waist and cheek. His eyes were softly closed.

She pulled away and forced him to look into her eyes. There was something in them that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"What's wrong, Pirate?" she asked. He had told her to call him 'pirate' absent-mindedly when she kept asking for his name when they first…met. He didn't seem to mind when she did.

"They took my Mum," he said. He was trying to sound brave, but she noted the slight shake in his voice. "If I don't kill another one of those blasted members of the Order, they've sworn to kill her."

She felt a twinge of pity. It must have taken him an enormous amount of self-control to not burst out in tears. His mother was the whole world to him. One night he had prattled on and on about her; how he promised he was going to keep her safe from 'them'. She knew he was talking about the Death Eaters.

"Pirate," she started, but he shushed her with a kiss. Undoing the drawstrings of her skirt, he slid it off as he kissed her again, leading her towards the bed.

Although worried for his mother too, she couldn't help but give in to his caresses. He was troubled and needed comfort. She was the only one who could give that to him. Just for tonight, she was going to skip her duty. Just one night…

And that was what she repeated to herself as he mounted her, his elbows supporting his weight…

Tonight…

He teased around her slick entrance with the head of his cock…

Just for tonight…

…and he thrust into her until all they could hear were their moans and the soft sound of body against body.

One night…

"You look strangely familiar," he said a few hours and four rounds later. He was once again smoking, sitting against the headboard, naked. He didn't even bother covering himself up. He was examining her as she lay beside him, equally naked and uncovered.

"That's because we've been doing this for nearly a month now," she said calmly. "Do you know I haven't been with anyone else since you came?"

He chuckled and blew a smoke. "I know for a fact that you haven't been with anyone, ever."

She merely turned her head to him.

Crushing his cigarette against the wall, he stretched his arms, panther-like, before rolling over to lie on top of her naked form. He smiled and stared into her brown eyes as one hand caressed her cheek.

"Yes, Jane. You were a virgin when I saw you. And I'm glad, because I never fuck anyone who's been dirtied by someone else," he hissed.

She gasped a bit when he bent and bit her shoulder hard. She felt a growing hardness by her crotch.

"You're mine, got that?" he whispered as his fingers made their way to her clit and began rubbing her. She arched her back in pleasure when he began pumping in and out of her.

After a few moments, he had his cock poised by her entrance. She looked at him, puzzled. She ached for him to enter her but he was sneering.

"I want you to scream my name."

"Pirate."

"No. That's not my name."

"Then what is it?"

"Draco. Say it."

"Draco…"

"Good. Now scream for me, love."

He entered her agonizingly slow to prolong her torture. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and exclaimed his name. She clawed at his chest, crying out 'Draco!' That was all he wanted. Withdrawing, he thrust back into her with a grunt, burying himself to the hilt. He stayed still for a moment.

"Open your eyes," he commanded.

With all the strength she could muster, she opened her eyes and stared back into his. She nearly gasped. His silver orbs seemed to dig into hers. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. His lips were slightly parted as he panted. He still wasn't moving.

"I want to see you," he said. Then he began to move. Slow. Fast. Soon she was beginning to moan, but he constantly reminded her to keep her eyes open.

Finally, after a few more thrusts, a wave of orgasm hit her and she yelled out his name and closed her eyes. She never felt more alive and spent at the same time.

He was still at it. But he was close. He told her to look at him, and when she did, the floodgates opened. It was intense. He spilled himself into her, struggled not to moan, and then collapsed on top of her.

"Granger."

Her eyes flew open.

He was kissing her neck and shoulder now. His cock was beginning to soften.

"You look like Granger."

He lifted his upper body so he could look at her properly. He missed the shocked expression on her face, though.

"Hermione Granger."

With that said, he captured her lips and gave her his most brutal kiss.

Hermione spent two hours under the steamy cascade of the shower, ignored Ron and Harry's repeated knocks. She just wanted to be alone.

She had almost blown it. Draco had nearly seen through her disguise. But he didn't seem angry that Jane looked like her…in fact, he seemed to have been more aroused. He was up for two more rounds that night. A total of seven.

No wonder her body was aching. She was going to have to buy a walking cane soon.

She was also beginning to worry.

You're mine, got that?

What did he mean?

He was getting attached to her. But more surprisingly for her, it was mutual.

Hermione groaned and covered her face with her hands. She had very nearly given in when he asked her to stay with him until morning. And as she was pulled in for one last kiss before leaving, she felt herself melting into him.

He wasn't supposed to be like that. The first night they fucked, he was rough and uncaring. He didn't even bother with foreplay. He just stripped her of her clothes, dumped her on the bed, and fucked her like there was no tomorrow. It didn't even last an hour.

A few more nights and he was beginning to warm up to her. And she got bits of information. He was a talker and he didn't seem to care that she was intently listening. He must've thought that women of her kind were used to babbles and didn't really give a damn about them. Just as long as they were getting paid. And pleasured by a handsome fucker.

She began to regret what she did. One night? Yeah, that was all it took to change everything.

"Tell me about this Granger woman."

Draco was smoking. He was sitting on the bed but he was already dressed. So was she.

"Why are you curious?" he asked.

"I'm a woman. I'm supposed to be curious."

He didn't reply but instead entertained his cigarette.

"Is she pretty?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, a slight smirk on his lips. "Have you got nothing else to do, Jane?"

"So, she's pretty. Is she smart?"

"What?"

"Pretty and smart. Nice. Do you like her?"

He set his cigarette down against the ashtray and looked at her. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. Do I look like a mind reader?"

"No. You look like a hooker who's had just one customer all her life. Now quit asking me ridiculous questions."

"So you do like her!"

"Figure it out, Jane," he said as he picked up his cigarette and walked to the door.

Zacharias Smith's head was delivered to the Ministry of Magic three days later. He was one of the suppliers of the Order.

That night, Draco was with Jane again.

"How's your Mum?" she asked between kisses.

"Fine," he replied, his voice husky. He then pushed her down to the bed.

"Granger was a bitch."

"Huh?"

"She slapped me during third year," he said. He lightly touched his cheek. A look of loathing was on his face.

"Maybe you did something to her."

He was silent for a while as he buckled his belt. Then he looked at her and the familiar look, similar to when he realized she looked like Granger, was back. "I'm going to make her pay."

She grinned. "Oh, yeah? How?"

He buttoned his shirt. "I'm going to fuck her. So hard she won't be able to walk for a month."

She almost laughed. Wasn't that what he had been doing all this time?

"What're you smiling at?" he asked bemusedly.

"Are you aiming to make her hate you or to please her?"

"What?"

"I'm just saying, she might like you…fucking her. Hard."

He shook his head and turned towards the door. "Get some sleep, Jane."

Three weeks later…

"I missed you," he said. He was in the midst of sucking her nipple. She was a bit unresponsive, though. Something was bothering her.

He stopped and sat up, pulling her with him. He easily lifted her so she sat on his lap. She automatically rested her head on the hollow of his shoulders.

"Hey," he said softly. "What's wrong? We should be celebrating. Four members of the Order down. The Patil twins, Brown and Finnigan, they were."

She didn't look at him. Her eyes might betray her. She was guilty. The four should never have died. She was supposed to have warned the Order about the raid in Glasgow. But she was too caught up with him pleasuring her that she forgot to find out when it was going to happen. And it was the next morning, when she was still sleeping next to him.

She avoided him for three weeks after that.

But now, the Order needed information. It could mean the downfall of at least three dozen Death Eaters.

"I missed you, too," she finally said. "You've been away for so long. I just had to get myself acquainted with that fact."

He kissed her cheek. That was new.

"I'll be gone for a few days. Business in Scotland again. I'll be with the crew."

This was it.

"Can't you just let the crew go by themselves?" she asked, pouting for effect. "It's summer. You need a break."

He actually smiled. Did he think it was cute? "No, love. They can't handle it by themselves. The last time I sent them to scout a cave, they came back covered in bat droppings. I'll have to accompany them. However," he shifted a bit so his hard cock was now pressed just outside her clit, "when I get back, I'm going to get you in bed and let you stay there for days. Then I'll get my summer break."

Before he could lean in to kiss her, she asked, "Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"I leave tomorrow."

The Order's ambush on the Death Eaters went without a hitch. A dozen Death Eaters where killed and a few of the Order were injured, but the victory was on the good side.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in his cell in Azkaban. He was disheveled, and there were bags under his eyes. He smelled of old smoke and soot covered his torn robes. He looked like Death.

He heard the faint opening and closing of his cell doors but he didn't turn to face the visitor. Could be another scared reporter.

"Pirate."

He whipped around immediately. There she was, standing a few feet from him. She looked the same. Why was she here?

"Jane."

She closed the gap between them and whispered, "I've got fifteen minutes with you. That's all they gave me."

And what followed was heat. He was kissing her like never before. He was rough and calloused, and judging by the moans, she liked it. He wasted no time in foreplay. He took her in his arms and pressed her against the wall where he continued to ravage her mouth. He quickly reached under her skirt and yanked her knickers off, and lifted her legs so she could wrap them around his waist. She heard the faint chink of his belt unbuckling, zipper opening, and then she felt his cock penetrate her clit.

She tried to suppress her squeals, but it was near impossible. He was rocking her body. He was grinding her hard. She could smell sex in the air, taste his come on her lips.

"Come on, love," he whispered as he thrust harder. "Come…"

She bit her lip. She was so close…then he hit the right spot. And it…it was…it was bliss. She came and she screamed his name over and over. "Draco! Draco…Draco…"

He wasn't done yet. With one last thrust, he followed. His knees almost buckled.

"Fuck! Granger!"

She gasped. She wanted to disentangle herself from him but he had her trapped. He was now looking at her. Anger? Lust? What was it?

"Dra—"

He didn't give her time to talk. He angrily pressed his lips against hers. He bit her lower lip until they tasted blood. The metallic tang made her pull away and look at him incredulously. She would've slapped him had her hands not been around his neck.

"Yes, Granger. I knew it was you. When I realized Jane looked like you…"

He slid his cock out of her and she lowered her legs. She was mortified.

"But you told me—the ambush…"

"I told the Order about the ambush before I told you. They promised to keep me safe. This," he looked around at the whole cell, "is just for show. Make the Death Eaters believe I was on their side. Then I'll manage to 'escape'. Of course, I will have to hide out in your headquarters until it's safe for me to penetrate their ranks once again."

She was still at a loss for words. Even as she was fixing her knickers, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he straightening his pants.

An expression of amusement flickered across his face as she wobbled over to a stool by the door.

"Told you I would."

"What?" she asked scathingly.

"Fuck you so hard you'd have trouble walking."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"And you did. Congratulations, Granger. Although, I think I should be congratulated, too. I was your first."

She glared at him icily. "When you get out—"

He strode over to her and bent down so he was level with her face, "When I get out, I will stay true to my promise."

At her perplexed look, he continued. "I'm going to get you in my bed and make you stay there."

And with that, he leaned in and captured her lips.

END. 


End file.
